


Part 39: Frances

by oiuytrewq36



Series: Let's Hear It for the Boy [13]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36
Summary: When Justin first moved in to our old place in the East Village, the number of parties I attended weekly tripled overnight. Tripled isn’t totally accurate, actually, because three times zero is still zero, but you get the idea.But anyway, I started going to parties. Fun parties, for the most part, often overdone in a good way, occasionally overdone in a bad way. The reason I’m mentioning this is that I don’t want you to think that I have no frame of reference for what a big party is like, which some people might assume is a given for all asexual-aromantic-aligned goth financial analysts.So, when I say that the bachelorette party setup in Justin and Brian’s apartment (you’ll get your exposition in a moment, don’t worry) was wild, I know what I’m talking about, and I mean that it waswild.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Molly Taylor/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Let's Hear It for the Boy [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928482
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Part 39: Frances

When Justin first moved in to our old place in the East Village, the number of parties I attended weekly tripled overnight. Tripled isn’t totally accurate, actually, because three times zero is still zero, but you get the idea.

But anyway, I started going to parties. Fun parties, for the most part, often overdone in a good way, occasionally overdone in a bad way. The reason I’m mentioning this is that I don’t want you to think that I have no frame of reference for what a big party is like, which some people might assume is a given for all asexual-aromantic-aligned goth financial analysts. 

So, when I say that the bachelorette party setup in Justin and Brian’s condo (you’ll get your exposition in a moment, don’t worry) was wild, I know what I’m talking about, and I mean that it was _wild_. Balloons covering every square inch of the ceiling with sparking ribbons floating down, stripper poles and silks in the middle of what used to be the living room, bags of glitter confetti ready to be thrown when the bride-to-be and company arrived at nightfall.

Jennifer and Justin weren’t there - spending some debauchery-free family time with Molly before the big night, probably - but Brian was, fiddling with an uninflated balloon on the couch and watching with studied disinterest as Emmett conducted an orchestra of staff.

I went over to the couch, which had been moved from its usual central position to be against the living room wall, and sit down next to him. I gestured at Emmett and his rapid-moving directees. “Do they need any help?”

Brian snorted. “Fuck if I know. Justin says I can’t fuck more than two guests tonight, so I’m just scoping out the early options.”

“Huh,” I said. He laughed, leaning back on the couch, still gazing speculatively at the barely-contained chaos in front of us.

"Going to be a hell of a party, looks like," I said, watching the streamers wave like the tendrils of celebratory jellyfish, and Brian laughed again. "This is just for the afterparty. The real thing's at this nightclub Justin rented out downtown. One of his wedding gifts to Molly."

"Some present."

"He's a good brother," Brian says, now giving an absent stare out the big plate-glass window.

We sat in silence for about five minutes - one of our standard methods of communication by this point, if I'm being honest. Then he turned to look at me. "Do you ever worry you'll get lonely?" 

Funny, of all the people I'd ever anticipated getting The Question from, he'd never made the list. There are a couple of different answers I usually give there, depending on how well I know the person and how deep of a conversation I'm willing to have. For Brian, I decided on honesty.

"Yes," I said, and he nodded, now gazing straight ahead again. "But I know for sure that being attached to another person makes me unhappy, and I'd take the chance of loneliness over that any day. And it's not like I don't have people in my life that I love, that I care about."

"You've thought about it, though."

"It's hard not to, when most people look at finding a long-term partner as a primary life goal."

Brian snorted. "Ah. _That_ feeling."

"Did you ever worry? About being lonely?" I asked.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at me. "I didn't when I was younger. Mikey and I were attached at the hip then, and I had no interest in finding a- a boyfriend, or anything. I didn't see the point."

"And now?"

"Only in the dark moments, once in a while. Less than I used to." He sighed, stretching the balloon, passing it from hand to hand. "Justin isn't like me. He could fall in love with someone else. Not that he has, just that he could. But he's- it, for me, as far as this kind of love goes. As much as I hate this expression, and I really fucking hate this expression, he's the one."

When I didn't say anything, he kept talking. "Not that I'm worried that he'll leave, because I'm not. But every so often I think about what my life would be without him, and it's not pretty. I'd survive, because that's what I do, but-"

It's never been my habit to touch other people unless absolutely necessary - just not my thing, I guess - but Brian is a touchy-feely person, and I knew by then that this is what he looks like when he's letting someone else see the things he's most afraid of. So when his voice cracked, I put my hand over his, a study in contrast, my small, pale fingers, covered in black and gunmetal rings, over his warm tanned ones.

He didn't look at me, but he didn't snatch his hand away either, something I didn't recognize in the set of his jaw.

Then he sat up, the moment ending almost as soon as it'd started. "I think I've been infected by all the wedding talk," he said, just barely hinting at a smile. "Feel like going on a drive, taking a break from all ... this?"

I frowned. "We're in Manhattan."

Brian laughed. "Yeah, but I have to go pick up the bride-to-be and company from dinner in the Hamptons, and the Maserati gets sad if I don't drive it once in a while."

"Sure it does," I said, standing up. "But I pick the music."

He rolled his eyes, following me to the door. "We like the same music."

"So it shouldn't be a problem." I actually just wanted to make sure that none of Justin's techno mixes would make it onto the playlist. Deep and meaningful conversations I can handle, on occasion, but i refuse to subject myself to more EDM than absolutely necessary.

***

The afterparty was, let's say, lively. As we waited for Molly and her friends, Daphne and Brian and Justin and Emmett and I hung around on the living-room-turned-dance-floor, passing around a bottle of champagne and trading stories from our various misspent youths. The subject inevitably shifted to the plans for tomorrow, though, and when Daphne, Brian, and Emmett got up to hunt for canapés we could reasonably steal, Justin started to look a little melancholy, the way he used to when we were living together and he hadn't seen Brian for a month or so.

"Everything okay?"

He twitched, a little, surprised out of his introspection, and smiled at me. "Fine, yeah. Just ... thinking."

"About what?"

"How lucky I am," he said. "How many other paths I could have ended up on." He paused, then laughed, short, soft. "Just secondhand wedding emotions, I guess."

I tried not to smile too wide - I didn't especially want to have to explain - but he still gave me a funny look. "What?"

I shrugged. "You and Brian are perfect for each other. That's all."

He smiled at me again, and he looked like he might be about to ask something else, but just then Molly and her friends burst through the door, giggling, buzzing with energy, and someone turned on the music and someone else opened a fresh bottle of champagne, and Daphne pulled us both over into the middle of the dance floor. "You can get all weepy later," she said, twirling Justin around, and he laughed, and I got something of an idea of what he probably looked like as a teenager just starting to find himself. "Let's dance!"

The three of us were a decade older than most of the guests - at least - but right then it didn't feel like that at all, and we danced right alongside all the young beautiful people until the sun came up, not thinking about past or future loneliness, just caring that for the present, we were a part of something.


End file.
